


i got you (no need to ask)

by svgurl410



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Male Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Sexual Content, POV Male Character, POV Oliver Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:46:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27749968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svgurl410/pseuds/svgurl410
Summary: Clark was going to burn out. Oliver’s offer to help him relax turns into a friends with benefits situation, and then it gives him more than either of them thought they’d ever have.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Oliver Queen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	i got you (no need to ask)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizzy384](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzy384/gifts).



> **prompt:** know that I would gladly be/the Icarus to your certainty (sunlight- hozier)

Clark was the sun. 

Bright, warm, making everyone around him want to bask in its glow. 

Sometimes the heat was almost overwhelming, but the darkness that edged at Oliver’s world when Clark was gone definitely wasn't the preferable option. 

And just like the sun, Clark was going to burn out one day. 

He was going to burn out, and Oliver could see it plain as day. 

Ever since Clark had come out of the shadows and embraced his new identity, literally had flown out in the open (and only having seen Kara with that particular ability stopped Oliver from being overwhelmed when Clark did the same thing), he had been overworking himself. He had been busy as the Blur, but Superman seemed to be all over the world at any given time. How he was managing to balance his hectic day job while attempting to save literally everybody was something he could not comprehend, even with all the abilities Clark possessed. 

But it was going to get to him eventually. There had been too many stories of Clark being somewhere at a time when he _should_ be sleeping and while he wasn’t the poster child for consistently maintaining a healthy schedule, he could spot the signs of someone falling apart. 

And he was worried. Maybe Clark wasn’t there yet, but he would get there, and Oliver had waited too long for Clark to take this big step to see him lose everything now. The frustrating part was that no one else seemed to be worried about him. While that briefly made him think he was overreacting, seeing Clark give a tired smile more than once, stress evident in his posture, his eyes always darting elsewhere even when he was with friends, constantly seeming to be listening for _something_ convinced him he was in the right after all. 

Yet he was only halfway successful at convincing him to take a break. In the past two weeks, all three times Oliver had invited Clark to join him and others for drinks or dinner, he had accepted but always bailed out early, because of an emergency, only to never return, despite promising, “it’ll be just ten minutes or so”. 

But Oliver had never been a quitter, and he wasn’t going to start now, especially when it came to someone as important as Clark. A chance encounter at Watchtower gave him the opportunity to invite him over to watch football on a Thursday night, and this time, Ollie covered his bases, making sure patrol was taken care of, employing even J’onn and Kara, so he could persuade Clark to stay. 

It turned out that even though Oliver could get Clark to come to his place, getting him to actually relax was a task of its own. 

“Sit down, Clark, I think the Sharks are going to score on this drive,” he told him lazily, from his spot on the couch, a bottle of beer in one hand, as the game continued on his big screen TV. But Clark didn’t seem interested in watching the local team take on the Gotham Knights, his attention seeming to be on the balcony. As it was, Ollie was convinced he had his suit on underneath his clothes. Not that he thought about what was underneath Clark’s clothes. Much. 

His friend’s expression turned sheepish, as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “I thought I heard something,” he admitted. 

“If you did, Kara will take care of it,” Oliver replied calmly, patting the seat next to him. “Take a load off. Even Superman deserves a break, and to be quite frank, I’m feeling neglected. Did you forget how to relax once you put on the cape?” 

“I know how to relax,” Clark protested, as he took the aforementioned seat. “You seem to think I’m always working, but that isn’t the case.”

“For someone who relies on lying on a daily basis to maintain their secret identity, you are quite terrible at it,” Oliver retorted smoothly. “How _do_ you fool the rest of them?”

“Not like anyone expects to see Superman amongst their coworkers,” Clark replied, shrugging but seeming more at peace. “If you didn’t know who I was, would you give me a second glance?”

“Oh, please, I knew you were more than your average farm boy the second you walked into my apartment,” Oliver scoffed. “I may not have been able to figure out the rest until I saw it up close and personal, but you’d never be someone I would look over, in costume or not.” 

Clark’s face flickered through several unrecognizable emotions before settling on a smile. “I guess it is insulting to assume an archer would miss anything.”

“Now you’re talking sense,” Oliver stated, a touch of smugness in his tone. “So new rules: tonight, we are going to watch the game, drink beer, and eat food, and there will be zero discussion or thoughts about work. And you _are_ going to relax.”

“I’d ask if you’ve always been this bossy, but I know the answer to that one,” Clark muttered, but he did open his own bottle of beer and picked up a buffalo wing, dipping it in sauce, before taking it a bite. 

“That’s how I get things done,” Oliver pointed out, not even the least bit insulted. 

“I didn’t realize I was on that list,” Clark remarked, but it seemed as if the tension had eased out of his body during the last five minutes, his attention drifting between Oliver and the game. 

_Oh, are you ever,_ chipped in Oliver’s traitorous mind, but he had years of practice ignoring his attraction. He wouldn’t get distracted now. 

Instead, he took a sip of his beer, giving the TV a cursory glance when the Sharks scored a touchdown, and then back at Clark. “Well, you put yourself on the list by becoming such a workaholic,” he explained. 

“Says the jet setting billionaire with his own secret identity,” Clark teased, causing Oliver to chuckle. 

“I still have time to make it through a whole dinner,” he shot back, but it was lighthearted. 

“Fair point,” Clark conceded. “Is that why you’re so intent on your ‘rules’ and making sure I take a break?”

“Everyone needs a break now and then, Clark,” Oliver responded. 

“I’m not your responsibility, Oliver,” Clark reminded him. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You are my friend, and I’m here to make sure you don’t burn out,” Oliver corrected. 

“Burn out?” Clark repeated, visibly confused. 

“Mmhmm,” Oliver confirmed. “Burn out. You’re going to overwork yourself at this rate, and we both know it.”

Clark slumped back against the couch, not denying Oliver’s accusations. “Yeah, well, I guess I feel guilty every time I take a break, because who knows how many people I could have been saving in that time?”

“Can’t save everyone, and you won’t be able to save anyone if you lose yourself in the process,” Oliver advised gently. “You need to see people outside of just your day job and when you’re in the spandex.”

“It’s hard to be social,” Clark sighed. “As if I don’t lie to enough people. Not really interested in adding more.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Oliver said. “I know it’s difficult to make excuses if you need to dart out in the middle of drinks or a date.”

“I haven’t even thought about dating,” Clark confessed. “That seems way too complicated. Not that it seems that you’re having an easier time. I doubt you’re lacking for partners, so I’m assuming that is by choice.”

“A date now and then is nice, and I can always find someone to spend some time with for events, but while a relationship has benefits, I am not sure I have time for that kind of commitment,” Oliver answered. “Besides, you’re right, how many excuses can you give for bailing and not being there when they wake up in the middle of the night? Even if you can trust someone enough to tell them, there isn’t a guarantee that they would want anything to do with that life.”

“It’d be easier if you could find someone who understood,” Clark said, shaking his head. “I am glad that we have the League though; it makes me feel less alone in the world.”

“You’d feel even better around the team if you stuck around for the main course to show up one of these days,” Oliver joked, nudging him lightly. 

“All right, point made,” Clark laughed, leaning forward to pick up a slice of pizza. “Seems I can’t get rid of _you_ either way.”

“Why would you want to?” Oliver challenged, pouting playfully. “You’re stuck with me, boy scout, whether you like it or not.”

Clark was in the middle of eating and he remained silent, as he chewed, watching Oliver with a fond expression, causing Oliver’s breath to catch. “I guess it’s a good thing I wouldn’t want to,” he finally said, placing a hand on the bare skin of Oliver’s arm, just underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. His touch was warm, comforting, and Oliver found himself leaning into it instinctively. 

“Good thing,” Oliver echoed, both unable and unwilling to look away. Blinking a few times, he finally internally composed himself and added, “But seriously, Clark, if you ever need someone to talk to, or just someone to hang out with, you know you can always come to me.”

“Then you’ll give me pizza and we’ll watch sports together?” Clark asked, his smile widening.

“Or whatever you want,” Oliver responded, shrugging. “Everyone needs a release.”

To his surprise, Clark’s eyes drifted to Oliver’s mouth and back, tongue darting out to lick his own lips. “A release, huh? Guess I can’t argue with that.” 

_Well, well, well._ Looked like maybe the attraction Oliver had always figured was one sided could be a bit more mutual after all. He didn’t know where Clark’s mind just went, but he was hoping it was the same place his own just did. 

“You’ll find that I’m hard to argue with,” Oliver said, scooting over and placing his hand on Clark’s thigh. “Doesn’t have to just be beer and football, Clark.” 

Clark’s gaze darted between Oliver’s face and hand, but he didn’t pull away. “So what exactly can it be then?” he finally asked. 

Oliver offered a flirty smile. “It can be whatever you want it to be.” 

“Oliver,” Clark started, but before he could continue, Oliver pressed his hand into Clark’s leg, and leveraged his weight, shifting easily to straddle Clark’s thighs, his back to the TV. He felt encouraged by the fact that Clark’s hands went to settle at Oliver’s hips, holding him steady and still. 

Behind him, there was cheering as the Sharks celebrated an interception, but the game was the last thing on either of their minds. 

“The question is: what do you want?” Oliver asked boldly. “And if I am misreading you here, just say the word-”

Not only did Clark not reject him, his hand immediately moved to the back of Oliver’s neck, pulling him into a kiss that Oliver didn’t see coming, but wasn’t complaining about. Gripping Clark’s shirt, Oliver tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and melting into Clark’s embrace. Clark’s free hand shifted to rest on the small of Oliver’s back, holding him both closer and tighter. 

“Oliver,” Clark said breathlessly, once they parted. “What are we doing?”

“Like I said,” Oliver murmured, kissing him again quickly, “You need a release. I can give you one, and this … is far more interesting than what I previously had in mind.” 

“I don’t want your pity,” Clark was quick to tell him. 

“Good thing you don’t have it,” Oliver shot back. “I’m attracted to you, Clark, and since you seem to feel the same, there’s no reason we can’t have some fun.”

“Would this be a one night stand type thing?” Clark wanted to know. 

_So many questions. Guess this is why he’s a reporter._ “Can be,” Oliver said, shrugging. “Or more than one night. Neither of us have time for a relationship and we could just … keep things casual.” 

“Like friends with benefits?” Clark deduced. 

_Now we’re talking._ “Exactly like that,” Oliver said, grinning. “What do you think?”

This time, Clark didn’t respond, just pulled him back into another kiss, which was more than fine with Oliver, his hands moving to slide under Clark’s shirt, warming themselves against his skin. As Oliver parted his lips slightly, Clark seemed to take charge of the kiss, sliding his tongue alongside Oliver’s, drawing an unexpected whimper from Oliver, who quickly realized he could easily get addicted to this feeling … to _Clark_. 

Clark distracted him from that line of thinking when he tugged at his shirt, and Oliver took the hint to remove it, before returning his mouth to Clark’s, as they exchanged several firm, lazy kisses. 

“So the rules?” Clark asked, between kisses, as Oliver worked on getting the other man’s shirt off. 

“No rules,” Oliver replied. Clark had way too much clothing on and they had already talked too much for Oliver’s liking. Once he succeeded at his task, he took a moment to admire the view before moving his mouth to taste the bare skin, eliciting a moan from the other man, whose hands had found their way to his denim covered ass. 

“Not … not what you were saying just a little while ago,” Clark reminded him, gasping as Oliver found a sensitive spot on his neck, nipping it lightly. “Pretty sure you were being demanding on what we could and couldn’t do.” His smile turned wicked. “And I am even more positive we are forgetting the game you were oh so insistent that we watch. Wasn’t that rule #1?”

Oliver glared at him. “Clark, if _you_ would rather watch the game-”

But Clark didn’t give him a chance to finish that sentence, one hand cupping the back of his head to pull him into a searing kiss, to which Oliver couldn’t do anything but respond. Parting after a few moments, Clark watched him seriously. 

“I’d much rather do this,” Clark said, his voice low. “But you’re my friend first, Oliver. One of my _closest_ friends. I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t,” Oliver promised. “Like I said, it’ll just be sex. Our friendship won’t change, and whenever you need a hand …” He trailed off, moving his own hand to cup Clark through his jeans, causing the other man to groan and shift his hips into Ollie’s hand, the other hand squeezing Ollie’s ass. It hurt a little, but in the best possible way, and if Oliver had a mark in the morning, it would be worth it. “I’m there for you.”

“I hope, I hope that goes both ways,” Clark murmured. 

“Of course it does,” Oliver assured him. “But to be clear: this _is_ what you want, ri-?” Before Oliver could even finish the sentence, Clark moved, flipping Oliver back into the couch, hovering above him and silencing him with a kiss. Oliver’s hands traveled to Clark’s back, pressing him down against him, their hips rocked against one another, his mind fogged from just how much he wanted this. 

“Did I answer your question?” Clark asked, his breathing heavy, brushing his nose against Oliver’s. Oliver had to take a few short breaths of his own before he could respond. 

“Yeah, I think you definitely did,” Oliver replied. He could certainly _feel_ how much Clark wanted it, and damn it if the fact they still had clothes on frustrated him. 

“I only have one more question,” Clark said, with a cheeky smile. “Which way to your bedroom?”

Oliver’s face lit up, a smirk gracing his lips. “I would be more than happy to show you.” 

Clark stood up, and Oliver followed him, the two of them making their way up to the spiral stairs and into Oliver’s bedroom, and they had barely made it inside before Clark pulled Oliver into his arms and kissed him once more. 

Oliver wasn’t complaining though, his own hands moving to the buttons of Clark’s jeans, the two of them working to remove what was left of their clothing before they fell to the bed, lips still locked. 

And Oliver was all too eager to use the opportunity to explore, and discover what exactly Clark liked. It helped that Clark was a very enthusiastic participant. He may not have had as much experience as Oliver, but he definitely was a quick learner, talented with both his mouth and his hands. 

There was also something euphoric about having the power to make Clark, who could be so serious and stoic at times, lose control and fall apart underneath his hands. And to experience all the passion was dizzying, causing him to lose all sense of time and place; his only focus was on Clark, wanting to make the other man feel nothing but pleasure and forget anything else but Oliver. Judging by the other man’s reactions, it seemed that he succeeded. 

Only later, when they were thoroughly spent and sated, did Clark look a little skeptical again, gesturing his clothes. 

“So I should probably head out,” he said slowly, but didn’t exactly look like he was confident in that decision. 

“No, stay,” Oliver offered lazily. “You can leave in the morning. I’ll even give you breakfast … I happen to make a killer omelet.”

Clark’s lips quirked in a smile, seeming a bit more relaxed. All the tension that radiated from his body earlier that evening was definitely gone. “No, I actually have to be at work early tomorrow morning. Next time?”

The ease in which Clark assumed there would be a next time, without a hint of hesitation, pleased Oliver. 

“I will hold you to that,” Oliver responded, smiling, and tried his best to keep his disappointment internal as Clark put his clothes back on. He stood up too, finding his pants, and despite Clark’s protests, he made sure to show him to the elevator, exchanging goodbyes, before he headed back to bed. 

That night, Oliver fell asleep with a smile on his face, more content than he had been in a while. 

The next week went by quickly, and while he and Clark exchanged sporadic text messages, he didn’t hear much from him nor did he think too much about it. Superman’s activity level, which he couldn’t help but monitor, was still on the high side, but there seemed to be a slight improvement. At the very least there were a few nights where it looked like Clark chose to get some sleep over appearing in all parts of the world. 

As for Oliver, work and Green Arrow kept him busy. The team was constantly expanding, and he was almost grateful that they had gotten people like Batman and Wonder Woman, who had the ability to help lead the Justice League, because as much as he hated relenting control, he had quickly realized he couldn’t manage it all on his own either. 

Just as he was wondering if he was going to see Clark again, he received a text message, asking him if he was free that evening, which Oliver was. As he headed over, he wasn’t sure what to expect, but figured he would just go with the flow, something he was pretty good at. 

He had only been to Clark’s Metropolis apartment a few times before, but he remembered how to get there and made it fairly quickly, parking and entering the building with ease. Once at Clark’s door, Oliver knocked and the other man opened it almost immediately, inviting him inside. 

“I bought Chinese takeout if you’re hungry,” Clark told him, shutting the door behind them both, in lieu of a greeting. 

“You don’t have to bribe me with food,” Oliver remarked, taking in his surroundings. The apartment was as he remembered it, but more lived in since the last time he had been over, and while it was a far cry from the farm, it still gave off the same homely vibe that radiated from wherever Clark was living. 

Clark, who was walking past him toward the small dining table where the food was set, shrugged. “I wasn’t in the mood to cook anyway,” he explained. 

“Can I take a guess what you were in the mood for?” Oliver offered, smirking. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Clark said, a crooked smile forming on his lips. 

“Yeah, not my best work,” Oliver agreed. “Sentiment stands though.” Taking note of Clark’s posture, he added, “You do look a little tense.” 

“It’s been a long day,” Clark replied, running a hand through his hair. “Just … one of those days when nothing seems to go right.”

“Want to talk about it?” Oliver asked, closing the distance between them. 

“Not really,” Clark replied. 

Once they were face to face, Oliver suggested, “Then how about I help you get your mind off of it instead?”

“The food-,” Clark began. 

“Can be reheated,” Oliver interrupted, kissing him, and Clark didn’t protest, as Oliver led them to the couch, hands working to deal with Clark’s pants, sliding inside his briefs to grip him, grinning when Clark let out a sudden gasp. 

“God, your hands,” Clark moaned. 

“I prefer Oliver, but I’ll take that too,” Oliver snarked, and before Clark could retort, he tightened his hold, remembering just the way Clark liked it, causing the other man to groan and shift his hips at the same pace as Oliver’s hand. 

Clark’s head was pressed up against the back of the couch, his eyes drifting shut as he was clearly lost in the pleasure Oliver was giving him; the noises he was making made it harder for Oliver to focus, in more than one way, but he had always been good at multitasking, pushing aside his own desire to help Clark find his own release, which didn’t take long, Oliver’s name on his lips as he came. 

Taking a few deep breaths, Clark opened his eyes, looking at Oliver appreciatively, his face open and happy. “Wow, Oliver.” 

“Back to Oliver now, huh?” he asked, leaning forward to nip at Clark’s lower lip. 

“Smart ass,” Clark said, rolling his eyes, as he pulled Oliver forward, who pretended to resist for a moment. 

“Wait, what were you saying about the food?” Oliver teased. 

“It can wait,” Clark told him, their lips meeting in a kiss. 

That was what Oliver was hoping he would say. 

Later, once they were cleaned up and eating the reheated food, it turned out Clark was more open to talking. 

“Our source on this story we’ve been working on seems to have gone MIA,” Clark sighed, as he bit into an egg roll. “I can’t find her in or out of the costume.”

“Is there reason for concern?” Oliver asked, twirling some noodles on his chopsticks. “Could she have changed her mind?” 

“I don’t know,” Clark answered, frowning. “That’s the problem. I’m worried that the cult she’s been trying to escape, the one we are working on exposing, may have caught wind.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Oliver tried, leaning forward in his chair. 

Clark shook his head. “No, thanks though.” 

“That explains the stress before,” Oliver commented. 

“Yeah, and then I found out that this guy I caught earlier, who was running this ponzi scam, really ripping older people out of their retirement funds, got out on basically a technicality,” Clark said, letting out a deep breath. “It just seems that no matter what I do, sometimes the bad guy gets away.”

Oliver reached over to his water glass, took a sip, and made a sympathetic noise. “That is frustrating and I have been there, but unfortunately, that is just the way it is sometimes.”

“I know, but it still drives me crazy,” Clark sighed, shoulders slumping. “I keep wanting to believe in the best, that everything will work out like it should, but it is hard sometimes. We may not live in a fairy tale, but I can’t help but want the good guys to win out and the bad ones to get what they deserve.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with continuing to believe and fight for it though,” Oliver noted. “I mean, we need your endless optimism and compared to the currently popular trend of cynicism within society at large, it is refreshing.” 

“You don’t think I’m trying to do too much? Flying too close to the sun?” Clark wondered. 

“I think you are the sun,” Oliver stated seriously.

“Impossible to get close to and tending to burn?” Clark said, wrinkling his nose, but his expression was openly curious. 

“Nah, more like … warm, watching over all of us all, necessary,” Oliver tried. “It’s hard to explain.” At least without sounding ridiculously sappy. The thoughts had seemed much more mild in his head. 

“Never thought I would find you at a loss for words,” Clark joked. Fortunately for Oliver, he didn’t seem to be aware of his internal conflict. 

“Bigger miracles have happened,” Oliver said easily. 

“If I’m the sun, what does that make you?” Clark wanted to know.

“Not sure I fit into this little metaphor,” he replied thoughtfully, shrugging. “I guess something that the sun enhances, because you’ve always pushed me to be the best I can be.” 

Clark’s gaze dropped before meeting Oliver’s once more, and he was afraid for a moment that he had said too much, but the open gratitude on the other man’s face erased that fear immediately. 

“Lot of people get frustrated with the sun,” Clark pointed out. “And sometimes it feels like people like Superman at a distance too.”

“Well, I never felt that way,” Oliver stated firmly. He definitely preferred Clark close by, even when there had been times in the past that he had liked to pretend otherwise. 

“Not afraid of becoming Icarus?” Clark tested, tilting his head. 

“Nope, no wings here, and if I had them, they wouldn’t be made of wax,” Oliver answered, grinning. _And if they were, I still wouldn’t stay away. If you were the sun, I can see why Icarus took the risk,_ is what he didn’t say, but felt in his heart. Definitely too sappy. 

“Only the finest materials for you,” Clark joked, still oblivious.

“As it should be,” Oliver proclaimed, with exaggerated arrogance, drawing a chuckle from Clark. 

“It’s not all bad though,” Clark said, after a brief silence. “I never thought I could have _this_ , to be able to use my powers for good and have a life outside of it. I know there are sacrifices, but most of the time, I’m happy.”

“I’m glad,” Oliver said sincerely. “That’s how it should be.” And it’s definitely the least of what Clark deserved, in Oliver’s not so humble opinion. 

They exchanged warm smiles and continued to eat, Clark easily changing the subject into a lighter topic and Oliver went with it, as they were able to catch up on non life threatening aspects of their lives. 

As they cleaned up after, Clark glanced over at him. “Do you have to leave soon?”

“Depends, do you have a better offer for me?” Oliver asked, lips curving into a smile. 

“Maybe,” Clark replied, walking over to press him against the counter. “I figured you could stay the night. If I remember correctly, I was promised omelets in the morning.” 

“Well, to be fair, I promised them if you stayed with _me_ ,” Oliver corrected. “But I suppose I can make them here. Even if I don’t have my special omelet pan.” 

“You are a trooper,” Clark said, mock seriously, his eyes betraying his amusement. 

“That’s what has always been said about me,” Oliver agreed, moving his hands to rest at Clark’s waist. “So the offer …”

“Involves a lot less talking,” Clark finished, taking the opportunity to kiss him. And Oliver easily kissed him back, the conversation dropped, as they lost themselves in each other, making their way to Clark’s bedroom, where Oliver was all too happy to spend the night. 

And Oliver woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, almost reluctant to leave his position. Only the desire for coffee and realizing he said he would make Clark breakfast (and he did want to show off a little) gave him the motivation to get up. 

Breakfast went smoothly, the two of them taking their time as Oliver made his promised omelets, which left even Clark impressed. It was comfortable, but Oliver refused to think how he could get used to mornings like this. 

It was easier to banter with Clark, and then go back to his place, busying himself once more with his normal day to day life. Work was very helpful with that, as his week ended up being extremely hectic, forcing him to make an emergency trip back to Star City to stop a crucial deal from falling through and then seeming to be tied up in an endless amount of conference calls and a frustrating board meeting after he returned. 

While going out for patrol was a way to escape, it didn’t help with getting any much needed rest. And he recognized his own hypocrisy by telling Clark to take it easy while not doing the same, but what the other man didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

Especially since other than running into Clark while he was on his way out after patrol, he hadn’t seen him since they had breakfast, and that was pretty frustrating. Clark had texted him a few times, but Oliver hadn’t had any time but to send back a cursory response, even having to decline an invitation for lunch, much to his own irritation. 

After a particularly trying phone call, where he felt as if he answered the same question three different times in a span of thirty minutes, he finally called it a night, and headed where he wanted to go all along. 

Only when he was at Clark’s door did he realize that he probably should’ve given him a head’s up before stopping by. Clark did lead an equally busy life and wasn’t available at Ollie’s beck and call. _Nothing I can do about it now._

It turned out luck was Oliver’s side, and not only was Clark home, he seemed to be free. 

“I didn’t mean to show up unannounced,” Oliver said apologetically. 

“I don’t mind,” Clark assured him. “It is good to see you. You seem to have been busy lately.”

“That’s an understatement,” Oliver agreed. He shook his head. “If I see one more contract or have to take one more call, I think I am going to lose my mind. I needed a distraction ...” He trailed off, realizing that this was the first time he had initiated one of their encounters and wondered if Clark would be open to what he had in mind. 

Clark was smiling though, a knowing look on his face, as he approached Oliver with clear intent. “Well, let me distract you then,” he murmured, before capturing his lips in a kiss that Oliver happily returned, fingers entwining in Clark’s dark locks. As the kiss increased in passion, Clark backed him against the wall, and even though Oliver usually liked to be in charge, he found that aggressive Clark was a complete turn on. 

And he also found Clark’s powers were extremely useful, as he was able to get them to his bedroom and naked quickly. From there, he wasn’t doing much thinking at all. 

Oliver had meant to leave shortly after, but instead, he found himself drifting off, and woke up an hour later in a darkened bedroom, alone, to the warm aroma of something cooking. Redressing, he followed the smell to the kitchen, where Clark seemed to be busy in front of the stove. 

“Hey, what are you making there?” he said, getting his attention. 

“Carbonara,” Clark explained. “Can you stay?”

“Yeah, I can,” he agreed. “You didn’t have to go through any trouble though.”

“It isn’t,” Clark insisted. “I like to cook.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” Oliver offered. 

Clark shook his head. “No, I got it handled. You can go relax until it’s ready, if you would like.”

“I’m good right here,” Oliver insisted, finding and taking a seat, content to watch Clark work. Clark nodded, accepting the answer, as he went back to work, and they made idle chit chat as he finished up. 

Unsurprisingly, Clark was a good cook, and the pasta was delicious. Oliver was barely able to refrain from going for a third serving. Afterwards, he accepted Clark’s invite to watch a movie, and even though he did have some work left to do, he couldn’t convince himself to leave. 

“Properly distracted yet?” Clark teased, as they watched Leonardo DiCaprio explain what dream sharing was. 

“I think you managed to accomplish that a while ago,” Oliver replied, grinning. “I’m glad you were here.”

“I’m glad you showed up,” Clark countered. “I was starting to worry that I was the only one taking advantage of our arrangement and you were just going along with it.”

“It was my idea in the first place,” Oliver pointed out, eyebrows furrowing. “And trust me, if that was being taken advantage of, well, people have tried to use me for worse.” 

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Clark asked. “Because I don’t want to be in that category.”

“It was, I’m having much more fun here,” Oliver reassured him, only half kidding, as he patted Clark’s knee. He made sure to add, with a sly grin, “And you do deserve many compliments.” 

Clark rolled his eyes in response, but his cheeks did redden, which Oliver considered a success. They fell into a comfortable silence while continuing to watch the rest of the movie. Somewhere though, between the avalanche and the explosions, Oliver dozed off once more. He closed his eyes for what felt like a second, and then woke up back in Clark’s bed, with Clark spooned up behind him, chest pressed against his back and his arm wrapped around Oliver’s waist. It felt nice and safe. 

Oliver squinted at the alarm clock on top of the bedside dresser and found it was almost one am. _Late._ No point in going home now. The work could wait till morning. His hand drifted to settle on top of Clark’s and he let himself succumb to sleep once more. 

When he finally woke up again, it was almost seven, and Clark was now on the other side of the bed, still asleep. Convincing himself that was no big deal, he rubbed his eyes, and slowly started to get up, the rustling of the sheets causing Clark to awaken. 

Oliver turned towards him and watched as Clark opened and closed his eyes a few times before yawning deeply. His gaze settled on Oliver and he smiled sleepily. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” he responded. “Hate to do this, but I have to head out. Ton of work left.”

“Breakfast?” Clark offered, and Oliver shook his head. 

“No time,” Oliver said apologetically. “I might be more free in the afternoon though. Want to get lunch?”

Clark nodded. “Noon?” 

“Sounds good,” Oliver agreed. “I’ll come by the Planet.” 

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Clark teased, starting to shift and stretch, the unintentional show he was putting on keeping Oliver’s gaze locked on him. 

“Back at you,” Oliver retorted. He felt the urge to linger, but instead, exchanged goodbyes, and headed back to his place, one last glance back at Clark’s closed door before he left. 

Hours passed like minutes, and it wasn’t too long before he was sitting across from Clark at a nearby cafe, having lunch and listening to Clark explain his latest story. He took a slightly longer lunch break than he normally allowed himself, but it was worth it. 

Oliver couldn’t deny that he liked doing this, and he found in the weeks ahead that it was easy to fit Clark into his schedule. With work temporarily easing up, they were able to have lunch or dinner now and then, sometimes with other members of the team or Lois joining them. Seeing Clark laugh and relax with their friends filled Oliver’s chest with warmth and he found himself cherishing every moment. Life sometimes caused their plans to get canceled, but for the most part, things were going without a hitch. 

Of course the sex continued to be great, which was a nice bonus, but Oliver just liked being around Clark period. 

They didn’t always agree on everything, especially when it came to League issues, but that had been a part of their relationship from the very start, and they were able to get around it. 

Until they found themselves visited by a group of aliens, with unknown intentions. Clark insisted on confronting them alone, and Oliver had not only refused to let him do that, but had shown up uninvited. 

While everything had resolved itself peacefully, and Oliver had not only been introduced to a new hero going by the name Green Lantern, but found out there was a lot more life out in space than he could’ve ever imagined, there wasn’t as much calamity in his personal life. Clark was _pissed_ and was more than happy to let him know by the time they got back to Watchtower. 

“What were you thinking?” Clark snapped, almost as soon as they had entered. Fortunately, the main floor was empty so there weren’t any witnesses to their current … disagreement. He knew that they had to coordinate with their new friend, but he also wondered if they had sensed the tension that he knew had been radiating off of them from the comms. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oliver said stubbornly. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Really?” Clark asked disbelievingly. “I told you _specifically_ that I was handling things alone, and you just showed up anyway! You could’ve been hurt, or worse, killed, if they hadn’t just been lost and actually had malicious intent.”

“You yourself said they weren’t causing any damage or seemed like a threat,” Oliver reminded him. “Why shouldn’t I have come along? What’s bullshit that you think you should go into anything without some sort of backup!” 

“I only thought that!” Clark said, visibly exasperated, throwing his hands up. “What if I had been wrong? Were you really willing to chance your life on my word?” 

“Yes!” Oliver insisted and got a disbelieving look in return. “Is it crazy to think I _trust_ you and your word?” 

Clark pressed his lips together. “If you trust me, then I need you to trust me when I say _I can do it on my own_ ,” he argued. 

“Well I need _you_ to understand that I am not going to let you go off on your own,” Oliver insisted. Closing the distance between them, he poked at Clark’s chest to emphasize his point. “Last time I checked, we’re a team, and that means you’re not going to leave me behind and do everything by yourself. Deal with it.” 

“You’re so frustrating,” Clark declared, scowling. “Do you ever listen?” 

“Do _I_ ever listen?” Oliver repeated, scoffing. “Oh, please, would you like to be the pot or the kettle?” Clark’s glare intensified but Oliver wasn’t budging on this one. 

“You’re not expendable, Clark, and I wish you would stop trying to jump at the chance to potentially martyr yourself,” Oliver continued harshly. At Clark’s hurt look, he softened his tone and took a deep breath before speaking. “Look, if Kara or Diana had been around, they would’ve come with you, but we couldn’t reach either of them and well, you and I have been together the longest. It made sense.”

“Is it wrong that I want to protect you?” Clark wanted to know, anger seeming to have dissipated. 

“You can’t,” Oliver said gently. “I chose this life, just like you did. We both know the risks.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Clark said, grudgingly. “Maybe next time, we can plan ahead so you don’t spring yourself on me. That’s a strategy better saved for the enemy, not your allies.”

“Hey, it’s worked for me in the past,” Oliver protested, a smirk emerging on his face. “To great mutual satisfaction, if I may add.”

Clark let out a surprised laugh. “Really? That’s the angle you are going to go with right now?”

“What, do you need a reminder?” Oliver asked, hands wrapping the back of Clark’s neck. “You do look a little … tense.”

“You do know you’re the cause of that, right?” Clark said, but his own hands found their way to Oliver’s back. 

“Only right that I fix it then,” Oliver said suggestively. “So your place or mine? Or right here … that would be interesting-”

Before he could even finish the sentence, he found himself in his own bedroom, still in Clark’s arms. 

“I’m still a little upset,” Clark stated firmly. 

“Even better,” Oliver replied, without missing a beat. “How about we work some of that off?” 

“Smartest thing you’ve said all day,” Clark agreed, and as Oliver opened his mouth to protest, he effectively silenced him with a kiss. 

If Clark was a little more intense this time than all their previous encounters, Oliver was too caught up in the moment to really care. Honestly, he even liked it. And sure, he did notice when he ended up being sore for the next two days, but he would definitely do it again. 

Afterwards, as they relaxed in bed, Clark propped himself up on his elbow to look at him. “Did you mean it?”

“Which part?” Oliver asked. “If it is about that thing you do with your tongue, then abso-”

“Oliver!” Clark cut him off, a blush staining his cheeks. “I _meant_ earlier, when you said you would follow me just on the basis of my word. Did you mean that?”

Oliver blinked a few times. “Well, I did it, didn’t it? Proves I meant it.” 

“But really?” Clark persisted. “You would trust me, just like that?”

“Of course I would,” Oliver told him. “We still may not agree on everything, but when you’re that certain, I have learned to trust you. I would rather chance being wrong with you than not be on your side at all.”

And he must have said something right, because Clark pulled him into another long, lingering kiss, feeling both the same yet different than the ones they shared in the past. 

“You know, if you want to go again, I may need a few minutes,” Oliver said, mock seriously, trying to do his best to ignore the way the look on Clark’s face was causing his heart rate to speed up . “I am still only human after all-”

That was all he got out before Clark kissed him once more. 

“How about you stop talking?” Clark suggested. 

“Make me,” Oliver challenged, as their lips met again and quickly reminded how Clark was very good at doing just that. 

And the following day he was proven right about the League having purposely scattered when Bart tentatively asked him if he and Clark were “cool now”. 

Catching Clark’s eye, he smirked as the other man’s lips twitched, clearly having overheard Bart’s line of questioning. Redirecting his attention, he answered, “Yeah, we managed to work it out.”

Bart immediately brightened. “Oh, good! Not that we were worried. The two of you are pretty much a married couple.” Seeing Oliver’s raised eyebrow, he hurriedly moved on. “Though out of curiosity, how long did it take and who broke? Exact numbers would be nice. Not that we have … bets or anything.”

“Really, Bart?” Oliver said incredulously. He really shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow, he still was.

“Come on, there is a really good steak dinner riding on this!” Bart protested. “Help a guy out!” Oliver continued to let his expression stay outwardly unimpressed, even though internally, he found the whole thing pretty funny. Bart cowered and pouted. “So ... you’ll think about it? Okay, bye.” 

Once he had sped off, Oliver allowed himself to chuckle. 

“He does realize we have a meeting in five minutes, right?” came a voice behind him, causing him to startle. He turned to meet Clark and shook his head. 

“Well, we’ll find out when it starts,” Oliver replied. “Sometimes, I still think I’m surrounded by teenagers.”

Clark smiled and shook his head. “I think it’s just Bart. And there are worse things they could be betting on. Especially involving the two of us.” 

“Don’t give them any ideas,” Oliver warned, snorting. Adding a touch of smugness to his tone, he said, “Besides, I’m stealth personified. There’s no catching us on that one.”

“Well, stealth personified, we have a meeting to go to,” Clark teased, and Oliver rolled his eyes playfully, but followed him anyway. 

Taking a seat next to Clark, he watched as everyone else drifted in, settling down, as the meeting began. As they went over their plans to induct Green Lantern, and larger decisions on connections to make with the Green Lantern Corps in general, Oliver found his mind wandering off. Usually, he didn’t mind the meetings, but as it dragged on, he was feeling more than a little restless. 

He was brought back to attention sharply and suddenly as he felt a hand on his thigh. Oliver’s eyes darted to Clark, whose focus was on Bruce, his gaze not giving anything anyway, but his hand was under the table, inching closer to the zipper of Oliver’s pants. 

“Are you insane?” Oliver hissed, keeping his voice low and the attention away from them. 

Clark’s expression didn’t change, as his fingers reached their destination and started to work on Oliver, who had to bite his lower lip hard to keep from revealing his reaction. As Clark brought him closer to the brink of release, there was a call for a vote about a proposition to expand the League, causing Clark to abandon his task and Oliver to fix his pants and hope that his … predicament wasn’t easily visible. 

Taking a chance to look around, he was relieved to see that not a single person had any clue what had just happened, and he forced his mind to run through some truly unpleasant imagery to get himself contained. 

Once the vote took place, the meeting was adjourned shortly after, and though Oliver took an extra moment to stand, he was quick to follow Clark out. 

“Are you trying to get us caught?” Oliver wanted to know, keeping his voice low. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Clark said innocently, completely unrepentant. “Just yesterday, you were the one saying it would be ‘interesting’. Anyway, I thought you were stealth personified?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t exactly a challenge there,” Oliver pointed out. “And I didn’t want an audience.”

“Oops?” Clark offered, shrugging. “You just looked so bored. I was trying to give you some focus.”

“I was focused all right,” Oliver muttered. Noticing other team members close by, he added, “We are going to continue this later.”

“Something tells me it is not the conversation you want to continue,” Clark responded, visibly gleeful, and that expression of arrogance that was on his face should not be as attractive or turning Oliver on as much as it was. 

“Oh, I definitely have other plans-,” Oliver started, but was interrupted by AC. 

“Hey, guys,” he said cheerfully, “A couple of us are going to go for drinks. You in?” 

“No!” Oliver said, almost too quickly, causing AC to look shocked with his sudden response. Clearing his throat, he said, “Nah, sorry, a little busy tonight.” 

AC looked over at Clark, and Clark shook his head too, clearly holding back laughter. “Yeah, I have some work to do too,” Clark said apologetically.

“All right, maybe next time,” AC said, before exchanging goodbyes and heading off towards Dinah and Victor. 

Before they could continue their line of conversation, Clark was called away by Diana, and Oliver resigned himself to the fact that this evening may not go the way he planned. Not having a reason to linger much longer, he headed out. 

By the time he got home, he was shocked to find out that he had been beaten there, Clark leaning against the wall in casual clothes. 

“I thought you were busy with Diana,” Oliver remarked, as he approached. 

Clark shrugged. “Didn’t take long. Besides … like you said, we have plans.”

“Oh, yes, you have ‘work’ to do,” Oliver mocked, as they made their way inside and in the elevator. “You are in a ton of trouble. Do you know how many horrible thoughts I had to give myself so I didn’t give everyone else a show?”

“Who, me?” Clark said, smirking. “It could have been worse- we could’ve been caught by Bruce.”

“Well, that’s a nightmare I didn’t ask for,” Oliver said darkly. 

“Let me make it up to you then,” Clark replied, in a husky tone. 

Before Oliver could say anything, he sank to his knees, hands dealing with Oliver’s pants easily, and as he wrapped his mouth around him, Oliver grappled to reach for the emergency stop button, the other hand sliding in Clark’s hair. 

He created a steady rhythm with his hips, which Clark easily matched, and it wasn’t too long before Clark’s talented mouth had him flying over the edge. 

And Oliver made sure to reciprocate in the shower later. If Clark’s expression of pure bliss wasn’t proof of Oliver’s skill, the fact that he ended up breaking two shower tiles while caught up in the moment definitely was. 

Once they noticed what he had done, Oliver cracked up at the pure horror on Clark’s face, and if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, he probably would’ve slipped and knocked himself out, causing him to start laughing all over again, this time Clark joining him. Clark’s face glowing with happiness resonated deep within Oliver’s chest and he couldn’t resist kissing him, steering him to a different part of the shower and giving in to their passion once more.

He couldn’t remember the last time he could do this with someone, just have mind blowing sex and laugh and enjoy being around them. 

One thing was sure: he didn’t want it to end. 

But it would. This arrangement had an expiration date, a truth he had never really considered before, and he still didn’t feel like delving deeper down that path.

At least not right now. Maybe later. 

Maybe. 

But probably not. 

Oliver had always been good at avoiding his feelings. 

Life was both cruel and kind in that aspect, giving him plenty to do to keep his mind busy. If there were moments those thoughts came back to the forefront, like when he went to the Planet to meet Clark for lunch only to catch one of the other writers flirting with him or when he spotted countless tabloids suggesting that Superman was in a relationship with either Lois or Wonder Woman, well, denial was a very handy tool. 

Suddenly, the week took a turn for the worse, and his problems seemed minor in comparison when a hurricane hit southeast Florida. There had been warnings for the past few days, but the storm hit harder than expected, and the Justice League sent some of their more powerful members to help deal with the damage, Clark amongst the group. 

Oliver stayed behind, putting on his business man hat and worked to raise money to help those displaced and affected, while constantly keeping in touch with the team and checking in on the news to see how things were going. 

He was confident that he understandably wouldn’t see Clark for at least another week, so he was surprised when he came home after running an errand to find Clark in the middle of the main room, hovering above the ground. He was still in his Superman costume, which was soaked, and his boots were caked with mud. It was his expression that got to Oliver though, full of distress, causing his heart to ache, and made him ready to do anything to change it and fight anyone who was the cause. 

“Clark?” he said, tone cautious. “What’s wrong?” 

“I-,” Clark started and stopped again. Swallowing, he began once more. “We’ve been taking shifts, so we don’t overwhelm the city officials or get burnt out. Diana told me I should take a break … I … I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry, I can leave.” 

“No, you know you are always welcome,” Oliver insisted, reaching his hand out, as if he had a miniscule chance of stopping him if Clark really wanted to go. “Why are you just floating there?” 

“I didn’t want to make a mess on your floor,” Clark replied, and it was so _Clark_ that Oliver had to laugh. 

“Fuck the floor,” he scoffed. 

“I don’t think that will help with the mess,” Clark offered wryly, and Oliver let out a surprised laugh. Observing Clark silently, he knew that there was _something_ troubling him, but he wasn’t going to get it now. 

“Come on, you look like you could use a warm shower,” Oliver suggested, a plan already forming as he took Clark’s hand, and tugged on it. Clark didn’t protest, letting Oliver lead him to his bathroom, still hovering as Oliver turned on the water, waiting till it got warm, before shooing Clark in. 

“Take your time,” he told him firmly, and Clark nodded slowly. Shutting the door behind him, Oliver headed back downstairs, putting his newfound plan in action, making a few calls. 

Coordinating was swift and easy and a little over ten minutes later, he had a visitor downstairs. Glancing up at the door that led to his bedroom, he hoped Clark didn’t suspect anything, before making his way to the lobby and returning as quickly as he was able to. Once he set the kitchen portion of his plan up, he made his way back upstairs, setting down a change of clothes. 

Hearing the shower was still running, he went back into the bathroom and his heart broke at the sight. Clark was standing there, still in his costume, not moving, eyes on the wall but not seeing anything. 

“You know,” he said, effectively gaining his attention. “It’s usually helpful to take off your clothes when you shower. Need a hand with that?” 

Clark gave him a weak smile. “You just want to know how my costume comes off.” 

“I can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind,” Oliver joked. Since Clark wasn’t moving, Oliver took charge and stripped down, stepping in the shower with Clark. “I will even help you wash your hair.”

Fortunately the water was still warm, but he raised the temperature slightly anyway. 

“It’s a good thing your shower can fit about five people,” Clark commented, as they got him out of his costume, hanging it over the door. 

“I’ve never actually tested that, but you’re probably right,” Oliver replied, chuckling, as he picked up the shampoo, lathering up Clark’s hair, as Clark watched him, his gaze so intense that Oliver could barely meet it, his breath catching as when he did. 

“Smells nice,” Clark murmured. “Like you.” 

“It is my shampoo,” Oliver pointed out, forcing himself to focus on his task, before moving to the body wash. 

This was definitely something he had never done before, but being able to take care of Clark felt soothing, and he was clearly getting some level of comfort from it, which was much more important. 

Once they were done, Oliver redressed and Clark stepped out into his bedroom in a towel, looking puzzled at the contents on the bed. 

“Those are my clothes,” he said. 

“Thank you, captain obvious,” Oliver replied, ignoring Clark’s pointed look. 

“How did you get it so quickly?” Clark wanted to know, gaze darting between the bed and Oliver. 

“Easy, I know where you keep your spare key and I have a speedster on call who can be easily bribed with food,” Oliver explained. Patting Clark’s arm, he said, “I’ll let you get dressed. See you downstairs.”

Waiting for Clark’s nod, he went back to the kitchen, continuing the second part of his plan. Hearing Clark come downstairs a few minutes later, he put together a plate and brought it out as Clark, who met him at the entrance. 

“What’s this?” Clark asked, accepting the food. 

“Figured you might be hungry,” Oliver said, and as if on cue, Clark’s stomach growled, causing the other man to blush. “Guess I figured right.”

“Yeah, it got kind of chaotic so a normal sleep and eating schedule hasn’t been an option,” Clark admitted, moving back inside to make himself comfortable on a stool next to the kitchen island. “Thank you, this smells great. Honestly, it smells just like my mom’s meatloaf.” Taking a bite, he added, “Tastes like it too.” Seeing Oliver’s raised eyebrow, he stared, visibly stunned. “But … wait ... really?”

Oliver smiled. “I called your mom,” he confessed. “Turns out she has been doing some extra cooking. I have some apple pie too, when you’re ready.” 

_“I need an outlet or I am going to be constantly checking on the news, Oliver,”_ was what Martha had told him when he had called to find a way to cheer Clark up, and learned she had made plenty of his favorites, if he could only find a way to get them from DC to Metropolis. And Oliver did. 

She had also thanked him for being there for Clark, and when he dismissed it as friendship, made an odd comment about how she had never imagined he would be what Clark needed, but couldn’t picture anyone better, which was a little confusing, but he appreciated the support and told her so. 

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” Clark said, awe written all over his face, as he stood up and moved to embrace Oliver in a hug, which Oliver immediately returned. 

“I just made a few phone calls,” Oliver said. “Bart and your mom did all the real work.”

“But you thought about it, and that means everything,” Clark insisted. “Thank you.” 

“Any time, Clark,” Oliver said, smiling warmly. He gently nudged him toward his plate. “Your food is going to get cold. And there’s more on the counter if you want it.” 

“What about you?” Clark asked, as he retook his seat. 

“I had just lunch an hour ago,” Oliver informed him. “I might get some coffee.” He headed off to do just that and went to take a seat across from Clark once he completed his task.

“If you want to talk, Clark, I’m willing to listen,” Oliver offered, but Clark just shook his head. 

“Maybe later.” 

And Oliver accepted it. 

Later turned out to be when they were sharing the frankly delicious pie. 

“I knew it would be bad,” Clark shared. “There are so many people who didn’t leave, couldn’t leave, or had nowhere to go. It’s hard enough taking them away without any promise of them having a home to go back to, and I know by now we can’t save everyone, but then there was this little boy … and he looked so much like Ryan …”

“Ryan?” Oliver said. The name was unfamiliar to him, but it clearly meant a lot to Clark, who was visibly shaken. 

“He was this kid I knew,” Clark said softly. “I couldn’t save him. And this boy … a tree fell on the roof of their house, and he was stuck under the debris. I got him out, but he is now in a coma. It was just a lot. I think that is why Diana told me to take a break.”

“Sounds like you could use it,” Oliver said, keeping his tone steady but gentle. “You did the best you could, Clark. You gave him a fighting chance.” 

“Is that enough?” Clark asked, blue-green eyes filled with grief. 

“It’s all we can do,” Oliver replied. “We can work to fix their houses, and the city. And if you want, we can check in on the kid, if you have any information on his family.”

Clark nodded, looking slightly reassured but still, rightfully troubled. “Yeah, okay.” 

Seeing Clark turn his head to hide a yawn, Oliver raised an eyebrow. “When was the last time you slept?”

“I can go a while without sleeping,” Clark tried to assure him, his expression sheepish, clearly realizing Oliver probably wouldn’t like his answer. “We have been busy.”

“I know, I won’t judge … this time,” Oliver responded, getting to his feet. “But maybe you could use a nap. Knowing Diana, she probably won’t let you back till tomorrow anyway.” 

Clark nodded, and let Oliver lead him back to his bed, but he didn't get in. 

“Are you … could you stay for a bit?” Clark asked cautiously. 

“Of course,” Oliver agreed instantly, climbing in and waiting till Clark did as well. However, he didn’t seem comfortable, shifting from his back to his side, looking lost, before meeting Oliver’s questioning gaze with an apologetic smile. 

Making a quick decision, Oliver reached out his hand and tugged at Clark’s arm, pulling him closer. To his relief and pleasant surprise, Clark relaxed, sprawling on top of Oliver, his head resting on Oliver’s chest. Oliver ran his fingers through Clark’s hair, and used the other to rub circles on Clark’s back. Both seemed to work, because Clark quickly went limp, his breathing steady, and while he wasn’t exactly light, it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

He watched Clark sleep silently for a bit, and seeing that handsome face at peace, Oliver realized he would be happy if he could stay like this, and he’d love to finish every day this way, just Clark and him. That’s all he could really ever want or need, because he ... oh. 

_Oh._

_Oh no._

He had been aware that he cared, but this was too much. It was more than he might be able to handle, and the depth of his feelings and the likely futility choked at him, and no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down, it wouldn’t go away. 

Clark shifted in his arms, and Oliver forced himself to ease up, so Clark wouldn’t wake up, and even though he didn’t think he would be able to focus on anything else, years of meditation and yoga taught him to relax and eventually fall asleep too for a little while. 

He wouldn’t dwell on those thoughts again until Clark had left the following morning, and he was alone once more. 

Even then, it wasn’t much of a debate. Either he could try for something more, and risk getting rejected or worse, Clark feeling obligated to try, or he could just go with what they had now, which was pretty good on its own. The answer was simple. 

It wasn’t like Oliver had ever been very good at relationships anyway. Clark could probably do better. 

_No probably about it,_ his mind was all too happy to remind him.

Pushing down his self loathing, he concentrated on all the work that was ahead of him, including trying to find information on the kid Clark had saved. It wasn’t all that hard, especially after Clark had given him a name, and he was relieved to find out his prognosis was good, which he immediately relayed to Clark. 

At least there was some good news. 

Even as he worked, Clark was never too far from his mind. They tried to text when they could, and one day, when Oliver came home, he found a key, attached to a silver keychain with an arrow on it resting on the counter. 

_Figured you could keep this instead of just knowing its location,_ read the note. Oliver smiled, and pocketed both. 

He may not get what he wished for, but he would rather have this than nothing at all. 

Clark came back for good a few days later, and invited him for dinner that weekend, an invitation Oliver was all too happy to accept. He brought a bottle of wine, and dessert and showed up right on time. 

The door was open, and Clark was busy in the kitchen, cooking up quite a storm, the enticing scent of garlic and butter drawing him in from the entryway itself. 

“What’s the occasion?” Oliver asked, setting down his offerings. 

“Does there need to be one?” Clark asked, smiling. “Now that you’re here, can you try the salad to make sure there is enough dressing?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Oliver commented, but did as he was asked, finding a fork, and helping himself to what looked like a caesar salad with bacon and diced avocado pieces. Taking a bite, he made an appreciative sound. “Yeah, it’s perfect.” 

Noticing a bowl of crouton next to the salad, he grinned and gave in to the urge to take one, popping it into his mouth, before spinning back towards Clark. 

Whatever remark he had been planning to make died upon seeing the look on Clark’s face. He was watching him with unbearable affection and something else that if Oliver didn’t know better … if Oliver didn’t know better, it could be … but no, it couldn’t be … could it? 

Clark’s expression changed abruptly to panic, which is when Oliver realized he had just been staring at him silently, eyes wide, and mouth slightly agape for a few minutes. The look on Clark’s face quickly shifted once more to one of resignation, as he bit on his lower lips, watching Oliver warily. 

“Clark …” But the words died at Oliver’s lips, the accidental hope he had injected into his tone indeed evident enough for Clark to raise his eyebrows in surprise. 

Before he could continue speaking, trying to pull words out of the air to express all the thoughts that were jumbling around in his mind, the oven timer went off, effectively interrupting them. Clark’s eyes darted toward it, and moved to remove the contents, which happened to be a casserole pan filled with what looked and smelled like some sort of potato dish. 

After finding a place for it, Oliver watched as Clark began to add oil to a skillet pan, clearly intending on cooking the steaks that were settled next to the stove, and also prepared to avoid this topic for the time being. 

But Oliver had never been good with holding his tongue. 

“Clark,” he tried again. Clark glanced over at him. “If you want to tell me that I didn’t see what I think I saw, you can do it now.” 

“I know better than to question an archer’s eyesight,” Clark said, a wry smile forming on his face. “It’s okay, Oliver, I’m not … I’m not embarrassed of what I feel.”

“So you do … have feelings?” Oliver asked. “How long?” 

Clark shrugged as he worked. “I don’t know. I’ve been interested in you for a while, but when we started this, I didn’t want a relationship either. I think I was halfway gone by the time I realized how deep my feelings were. It’s hard not to fall in love with you, Oliver.” 

In love with …. Those are words he could barely use in his own head, and Clark just threw them out there. He must’ve been really good in a past life or was just the luckiest man on Earth, because Clark, _Clark_ , who was basically the best person he knew, was in love with _him_. 

“It’s okay,” Clark said quietly, glancing between the food that was now cooking, and Oliver. “We can continue as we were. I won’t force anything on you. Unless, of course, you think it’s too much, then …”

And that’s when Oliver realized he was an asshole. An asshole who let Clark think he had been rejected. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, and watched Clark’s face shutter, and groaned. Could he just stop saying the wrong thing for just one moment? “I mean, I’m not sorry you have feelings. I’m sorry for not- oh, hell.” He surged forward and kissed Clark, hands rising to Clark’s face, pouring all his feelings into that one kiss. 

“You know I’m getting some mixed signals right now, right?” Clark asked, as they rested their foreheads against one another. 

“What you said? I feel the same,” Oliver said immediately. “I should’ve said that first.” 

Clark seemed to go soft. “I’m just happy to hear it. But you’re not just saying that-?”

“If you suggest I feel sorry for you again, we are going to have to fight, and I am going to lose, so please do not make me go through that,” Oliver warned. 

“Fair enough,” Clark conceded, chuckling. “So … we’re going to try this for real?”

“That’s the plan,” Oliver said, heart bursting with love. “Hope you’re prepared to get stuck with me.” 

“Somehow, I will manage,” Clark said dryly. “Still not afraid of being Icarus?”

“Nope … besides, if my wings melted, you would catch me,” Oliver said confidently. 

“Always,” Clark promised, and then kissed him once more. 

And Oliver felt like he was flying. 

The feeling didn’t fade even when it turned out though that not only did the League have a bet on when the two of them were getting together, but it was Oliver and his so called “heart eyes”, according to Bart, that set the whole thing in motion. 

Clark made fun of his lack of stealthiness for the next week, but Oliver didn’t have any regrets.

As long as he got to be the one to go home with Clark, he wouldn’t change a damn thing.


End file.
